Cin Sweet Fields

Orange, Red, Redder Golden Light

Alone with the river of he, to me
his orange, red, redder golden light
each day he comes seeking, calling
crawling, stretching thin and long
then wide and finally through them
these windows, their tied back gowns
he, to me, comes crawling upon my skin
on me, inside me, at least for one last time

Oh beauty of it, a solitary truth to one
so right, my true love as he sets his sight
from peak of painted wooden stairs
reaching down from atop this tiny web
I watch, we touch so unspoken and warm
he and naked I with my all-night sight
eyelids that bend like bark and ache
in this orange, red, redder of his golden light

In vain, in vanity, I know it, I swear it
for cold and aloof is this, my love
vanishing then alone and can not speak
how foolish, feeble in my attempt of it
be damned these clumsy lips, stumbling tips
heaving clunky words always aim and miss
conveying nothing of his beauty, his might
in the orange, red, redder of his golden light

Submitted: Sunday, September 25, 2011
Edited: Sunday, May 18, 2014

Topic of this poem: guilt


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